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Henrik's Requiem
.: Pentember 11, 170 :. ' The cold, steel blade drove into the troll’s chest, severing nerves and tissue before embedding itself in its heart. The light in the troll’s eyes dimmed slowly until vanishing completely. As he pulled the sword out, Botyr gave the baby troll’s corpse a small kick, causing it to tumble back and fall. After spitting on it, he turned and addressed his audience with a smirk on his face. “And that is how you kill a troll.” He spoke, glaring down at the newest recruits of the Imperial Guard. “Tomorrow, I will demonstrate the correct procedure on how to kill a troll with your bare hands…Unless someone else wishes to show us.” He stood quietly for a moment, looking around at each of the stunned faces. 'I thought not.' he thought, smiling to himself. "Everyone will be here by two o’clock sharp! Until then…Get out of my sight.” All at once, the recruits jumped up and hustled off, whispering excitedly to one another. “Bravo! You really showed that troll, Botyr!” A tall man that looked around fifty years of age emerged from under the cover of the nearest tent. His face held a wide grin as he made his way over to Botyr, clapping with each step. “Oh come off it, Henrik. You know full well that an adult troll is considered too dangerous inside the encampment.” Botyr replied, walking over to shake hands with his mentor, Henrik deBarr. “Ah, so you do remember the incident last year, I see." Henrik said grimly while shaking hands. Botyr gave a quick nod and was about to give a reply when he noticed something. “Henrik, what’s that on you-?” Henrik quickly waved off the question before he finished. "It’s nothing, really.” Henrik replied, pulling up the collar of his shirt to cover a blackened, swollen area on his neck. “I was actually wondering if you would mind accompanying me for some tea.” Botyr nodded and suddenly became worried for his friend. “Excellent," Henrik exclaimed. "If you would just follow me...” Henrik turned and started off to his tent with Botyr following behind. Every now and then, Botyr glanced quickly at the area of Henrik’s neck that was blackened, hoping he could figure out what it was. After a few minutes of walking, they finally came upon a small black tent. Henrik opened the curtain and he allowed Botyr inside, then going in himself. The smell of honey and milk washed over Botyr as he entered and he quickly sat down on the nearest stool. “So… What’s on your mind, 'Rik? ” Henrik chuckled at the mention of the nickname Botyr had given him when they first met. He quickly poured two cups of tea and gave one to Botyr while sitting down on the stool next to him. The minutes passed slowly in silence, interrupted only by the slurping of tea. Just when Botyr was about to ask another question, Henrik sighed deeply and looked up at him, his eyes holding a mournful look. “I’m dying, Botyr." '.: Ire of Phyrrys 13, Age 170 :. Botyr sat alone inside the Toad and Chicken Inn, sipping at some Asgarnian Ale. Tostig had left the bar early, trusting Botyr enough to let him stay. The low rumble of thunder could be heard outside. Botyr, however, paid no heed as he remembered the day Henrik revealed his secret. ~Three months earlier...~ "..What?" Botyr started into Henrik's eyes, a look of confusion upon his face. "The local docter told me I had atleast six and a half months to live," Henrik explained, staring down at his cup of tea. "Now, I kno-..." Botyr let out a laugh. "You had me going there for a second. Almost made me believe you were dying!" He watched Henrik's face, looking for the familiar twinkle in his eye whenever he made a joke. It never came. "You were joking, right?" Henrik remained silent. Botyr suddenly felt light-headed. The room began to spin, going faster and faster until... "Botyr," Henrik had gotten up and was now standing. Even for his old age, he still gave off the feeling of power. "I know this is hard for you but it will be okay. I have come to terms with my life and am ready to pass on. All I ask is for you to let go when the time comes." He stared down at Botyr, smiling. Botyr, however, was not smiling. "You think you could just invite me over for tea and say `Hey, guess what? I'm dying! Isn't that great?' and expect me to be happy?!" Botyr yelled, jumping up from his stool. "Well, guest what, Henrik? I'm not!" With that, Botyr ripped the tent curtain aside and stormed off. Henrik only watched sadly as his young friend walked off. ~Present Time~ Botyr started down into his glass and let out a heavy sigh. Ever since that moment, Botyr had become obsessively worried over Henrik. Most of his spare time was spent consulting the doctor on possible treatments or remedies. Every visit ended in the same way; there was no cure. Henrik tried to persuade Botyr to accept the truth. However, he was too stubborn and ignored Henrik's visits. In time, Henrik lessened his attempts and finally stopped trying overall. By now, Botyr was ninety-nine percent sure he'd discover something to help Henrik. At the end of the day, however, his searching proved useless. Three months would pass and Botyr now had given up for the cure. Botyr's reflection stared back up at him, it's expression completely empty. A couple of seconds passed before Botyr raised the glass and gulped the rest of the ale down. There was another rumble of thunder, this time followed by the pitter-patter of rain. Botyr remained seated, silently remembering the days of his younger self. Another sound made it's way inside the tavern; the ringing of bells. `It's time.' Without hesitation, Botyr got up and left the inn, making sure to leave a generous tip for Tostig. Outside of the inn, rain was falling heavily. Dark clouds blocked most of the sunlight, dimming the whole town. Botyr lifted his hood and turned left, facing the camp. From here he could make out a giant crowd of people, seemingly huddled around something at the center of camp. Botyr quickly set off down the road, his eyes fixated towards the middle of the group. As he neared the camp, Botyr's pace slowed until finally he came to a stop. He was now at the back of the crowd and had a clear view of what they surrounded; the corpse of Henrik deBarr. Dressed in a simple white tunic, Henrik's body lay atop of a funeral pyre. His arms were crossed and his eyes were closed, making him look like he was sleeping peacefully. Many people within the crowd were mourning silently. Henrik's death came as a shock to many people as he seemed to be healthy and full of energy only weeks ago. A Saradomin priest stood over at the head of the pyre. He was holding a lit torch in his right and was busy describing the life of Henrik and how he will be missed. "Henrik deBarr was a man of faith. Throughout his childhood, he proved his loyalty to Saradomin. He always made decisions with wisdom and justice in mind. He served for some time as a monk at the Monastery and proved invaluable to us. He will be horribly missed." The priest lifted the torch, muttered a blessing, and lit the pyre. Botyr watched as the body of his best friend slowly caught fire. It wasn't long before all that remained were ashes. The mourning crowd slowly dispersed; soldiers returning back to their posts and citizens going back to their daily lives. Botyr, however, continued standing next to the pyre; his eyes fixed hard on what were once his mentor... His'' friend''. Every minute that passed felt like an eternity. By now, the rain had stopped pouring and only the occasional rumble of thunder remained. Without warning, Botyr collapsed to his knees and began to weep. For the first time in a long time, he felt utterly alone...